Fight For Me

“
I could kiss you all day,” he told her, his
breath ragged.

“
I had to stop.” Her cheeks heated, and she ran
her tongue over her bottom lip. “Otherwise, I'd hurt
you.”

“
I'm a big boy.”

S
he couldn't resist. She
ran her hand over the impressive bulge in his shorts. “Yes, yes you
are,” she agreed, her voice thick and raspy to her own ears.
What had she done? Quickly, s
he pulled her hand away, clenching her fingers into a fist.
She shouldn't touch him. She turned to face the wall. Maybe if she
couldn't see him, she could tamp down the lust gripping her. She
took a deep breath, held it for a moment before letting it out
slowly. “I really, really want to do all kinds of things to you I
shouldn't.” She sighed. “For so many reasons.”

H
e turned her around with
his left hand to silence her with another kiss, shorter but no less
passionate. “I'm sure we can find a way.” He kissed her again then,
stroking her with his tongue. “If you want.”

O
h, did she want. She was
practically dripping on the floor, but wanting a man with such
intensity was foreign to her. Coupled with the circumstances, she
couldn't risk it. This was a man unafraid to die in the defense of
others, a hero many times over. This was a man who could break down
her walls, and no matter how tempting he was, she refused to open
herself up for that. He was only here until he was able to take
care of himself, and then he would disappear. She straightened. “I
just don't want to hurt you.” She stepped from his embrace, wrapped
her arms around her midsection. “I don't do casual sex.”

H
e crossed to her, tipped
her chin up with his left hand. “What made you think I was lookin'
for casual?”

“
I...You...”
C'mon, Everett, you're a flippin'
attorney.
“I'd hurt you,” she finally
said.

“
Physically or
emotionally?”

S
he blew out a breath.
“Yes.”

Dylan narrowed his eyes as he studied her,
and she felt as if he could see straight through her. What did he
see? They stood still for long beats, her heart pounding in her
ears until he finally said,
“Okay then.” He took
a step back, putting space between them but not letting her go.
“Who hurt you, Cassie?”

Dammit, those eyes saw all. S
he pulled from his grasp. “It doesn't matter now.”

“
It will,” he promised
quietly.

H
e ran his gaze down her
pajama-clad form, the bulge in his shorts making itself known yet
again. She was wearing a tiny white top held up by thin straps and
a pair of green plaid boxer shorts. She knew he could have her out
of her clothes in ten seconds flat, even with one arm immobilized,
but he didn't make a move toward her. She couldn't decide if she
was relieved or disappointed, so she decided instead to ignore it.
“We have to get ready for court,” she said over her shoulder as she
fled toward her own bathroom.

~*~

D
ylan stared at the suit
he'd had Cassidy pick up from his house. How the hell was he
supposed to dress? He could barely pull on a pair of shorts. He was
used to taking care of himself no matter his injuries, but dressing
for court involved buttons. Sucking up his pride, he hollered,
“Cassidy!”

S
he was at the door
quickly, her own navy blue suit in place, the ruffled white shirt
beneath her jacket accentuating already impressive curves. He
wondered what she wore under the tailored suit. Lace? Satin? He
stopped himself. She was convinced she would hurt him, and he had
already pushed his luck this morning. He shook his head to clear
the images that had run through it. He may never get the taste of
her off his mind, but if she wanted to pretend they didn't want to
devour each other every time they were in the same room, that was
her prerogative.

S
he glanced around the
room, her delicate brows drawn together. “Do you need help?” she
asked quietly.

S
ince he was still
standing there in the same shorts she had tied less than hour ago,
he almost laughed at her question. Of course he needed help,
otherwise she wouldn't be staring at him and he wouldn't still be
half-naked. “You could say that. I can do zippers, it's just
buttons and ties that don't work one-handed.”

H
er lips compressed into a
line and he could almost see her thoughts. She was afraid to touch
him and combust again, but he couldn't testify in red basketball
shorts, bandages, and a sling either.
She pinched the bridge
of her nose, the battle in her head clearly visible. When she
dropped her hand from her face, she let out a heavy breath, and he
wondered which side had won. “
What do you need me
to do?”

He avoided that land mine
of an offer, instead asking,
“I
f you could
unbutton the pants and shirt for—” he cut himself off when he
realized he needed a pair of boxers instead of the shorts they'd
struggled with earlier. “Shit. I need underwear first.” Those dark
eyes of hers widened as she unconsciously licked her lips and he
hid a smile. If the thought of him without underwear could do
that... No. He wouldn't push her.

“
I'll just,” she started,
her gaze bouncing around the room. “I'll let you attend to that,
and I'll be back in a minute.” She turned so quickly she almost
fell on her way out his door. He bit back a grimace. The next few
weeks would be torture, but he had nothing but time.
Cassidy Everett wasn't a weekend special. She was
different, and he was a patient man.

~
*~

Dylan glared at the attorney questioning him.
“Yes, I covered Mason Everett's body with my own to shield him from
fire. It was instinct and training.”

“
This was one day after you entered into a contractual
agreement with my client to do what, exactly, Mr.
Black?”

He gripped the arm of the chair so tightly he
was afraid it would crumble in his hand. It took effort to unclench
his jaw, but he managed to answer, “Ms. McClaren led me to believe
her children were endangered by Ms. Nemecek.” He stared at
Priscilla McClaren. The woman was a piece of work, acting as if
Katerina was a drug dealer and child abuser. He wanted to snarl at
her, but instead kept his expression calm. Answering the questions
was all that was required of him and then he could go back to
Cassidy's and rest. “I agreed to extract and protect her children
if necessary.”

“
But there were no children, were there?” Gregory Peters
asked, his lips turned up in a smug half-smile.

Dylan shook his head. “No, there were not.”
He flicked his gaze to the judge before continuing. “When it became
obvious there were no children present, and no evidence of children
ever living on the property, I concluded Ms. McClaren had hired me
in order to distract the operatives hired by Mr. Everett to protect
Ms. Nemecek.” If only he'd realized it sooner, maybe he wouldn't be
sitting there in a stupid contraption for his arm.

“
A distraction?” Peters prompted, his muddy eyes
dimming.

“
Yes. When it was apparent to me Mr. Everett was in danger, I
teamed up with Mr. O'Dell.”

“
Sergeant O'Dell just accepted you at face value?” Peters
asked, his tone incredulous.

Dylan gave the attorney a wry smile. Two
could play at this game, and he would win. “If you insist on using
Sergeant O'Dell's rank, I ask you extend me the same courtesy.”

“
I apologize, Master Sergeant Black,” Peters replied
smoothly.

His smile was still in
place when he answered the question. “No,
 Sergeant O'Dell
did not
accept me at face value. He had his partner run me, and I have no
doubt he was prepared to take me out should it appear I was a
threat to his charge.” He winced. The hard wooden chair was not
comfortable in the slightest and Peters was questioning him like
he'd done something wrong by protecting Mason.

“
How would you characterize Ms. McClaren's mental state when
she obtained your services?” Peters asked.

Dylan tilted his head, catching Cassidy's
narrowed eyes from her seat behind the prosecution. “If you're
asking if I thought she was insane, I am not a medical
professional. All I can say is she was hysterical.” He might not
have a fancy degree, but he wasn't an idiot. He was not getting
backed into a corner by this pompous attorney.

“
Hysterical over the endangerment of her non-existent
children?” Peters asked, a laugh in his voice.

The lawyer was lucky they were in a courtroom
and not outside. He'd have no trouble clocking the bastard. “She
was afraid she would never have them.”

“
You assumed Ms. McClaren meant her children were missing?”
Peters asked.

Dylan shifted in his chair. What the fuck did
this man want him to say? He wasn't the one on trial here. His side
hurt, his arm was in a sling, and this pissant was making him mad.
“Look, if you want to stand there and point out to the judge that I
was played by a woman, fine. It's true. I believed her enough to go
out there the next day. I'm thankful I did, since there is a chance
Mason Everett wouldn't have made it through that day if I hadn't.”
He shot a pained look at Judge King. “I am tired and sore and I was
shot twice in defense of an innocent man.” He directed his gaze
back at the attorney. “I will not sit here and tell you what you
want to hear. As far as I'm concerned, I was coerced into a
situation by a cunningly manipulative woman.”

Peters blanched. “No more questions, Your
Honor.”

Dylan gingerly made his way off the stand. “I
wasn't expectin' that,” he murmured to Cassidy as he took a seat
beside her. He hadn't been kidding when he'd told the judge he was
tired and sore, but he wanted to stick around to see who Gregory
Peters called to torture next.

“
You were awesome,” she said, admiration in her dark eyes,
“Master Sergeant Black.”

They sat through the testimony of Dr.
Kimberlynn Talbott next, the doctor's diagnosis of delusional
disorder with erotomanic delusions centering on Mason making
perfect sense. Dr. Talbott explained that Priscilla was high
functioning outside of her delusions, yet within them, she felt she
was protecting her children and insuring their lives. Priscilla
believed Mason was her mate, and was threatened when he chose
someone else. It was Dr. Talbott's opinion that Priscilla be
remanded to psychiatric care and placed on psychotropic drugs, and
was incompetent to stand trial at this time.

Dylan leaned over to ask, “Why didn't the
doctor go first?”

“
Peters wanted to show how far she'd taken the delusion,” she
answered. “He also wanted to show how entrenched within it she was,
convincing you to believe her.”

“
She was convincin',” he admitted. She was also completely
insane. The doctor had just told them all that. “Psychiatric care
until she's competent for trial?”

She nodded. “Typically, there are drugs or
therapies, resulting in the perp showing deep regret for whatever
they've done, then a trial where they're often found not guilty by
reason of insanity but committed just the same.”

“
Either way, she's nowhere near your brother.” He studied her
face. “You don't think she's crazy.”

She shook her head. “She knew what she was
doing was wrong.” She focused on the psychiatrist for a moment
before directing her attention back to him. “I believe the doctor
is right—Priscilla is no doubt obsessed with Mason to the point of
delusions—but she planned everything. I just can't see anything but
premeditation there.”

He grimaced. This sitting business was
getting old. “How much longer 'til we can blow this pop-stand?”

~*~

“
Do you want to go home,
or shall we stop for lunch?” Cassidy asked a frustrated
Dylan.

Chuckling, Dylan asked, “
Did you just say shall?”

“
I did.” She bit her lip,
stopping the snark that wanted to pop out of her mouth. “Would you
like to eat, or do you need to rest?”

“
Can't I do
both?”

S
he barely resisted
shoving him. “Would you just answer the damn question?”

H
e gave her a half smile.
“Lunch sounds great. Just find me a place with a soft
chair.”

S
he managed not to sigh as
she lead the way out of the courtroom. Dylan was giving her a hard
time because he had just been raked over the coals by a hack
lawyer, been shot a few days ago, and this morning she had almost
jumped his bones. She shook her head at herself. Delicious bones
they may be, but the man was hurt, and worse, he wasn't sticking
around. She wanted him, there was no use in denying that, but she
had to be strong. He said he wasn't looking for casual, and she
wasn't capable of anything else. She almost tripped over the curb
and laughed at herself. That'll teach her to think and walk at the
same time.

S
he smiled when they
reached her Lexus, Blue. She loved this car, with its bright
metallic blue paint and gray leather interior, even if her father
had tried to cajole her into buying something European. She was
even happier about not caving and buying the sports car Charles
Everett had chosen now that she had to cart a huge man around for
the next six weeks.

~
*~

C
assidy drummed her
fingers against the leather-bound planner in her hands. She had
fourteen cases on her plate right now, and all she could think
about was the man she'd left in her house. Why had she left him
alone? Oh, right, she had work she had to do, and she couldn't just
shirk her responsibilities because she'd rather be tending a man. A
man she had kissed a few mornings ago, a man she couldn't stop
thinking about, a man who had nearly sacrificed his life to save
her brother. She shook her head at herself. She had to stop
thinking about Dylan and prepare herself for court.